


Dog Teeth

by Aris



Series: Marvel One Shots [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, One Shot, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2013-10-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 15:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aris/pseuds/Aris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki asks Tony a favour.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>"He handed me a pair of pliers</em><br/><em>and he told me to pull out his teeth,</em><br/><em>because as long as he had them he'd</em><br/><em>use them to do bad things."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Teeth

**Author's Note:**

> [Dog Teeth - Nicole Dollanganger](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rJrgXyU6ZXw)
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> [tumblr](http://norsed.tumblr.com)

"What?"

Loki looks up through his ruffled hair, it partially covering his hardened eyes with dark strands as they stare down at the floor, determined and focused, as if it was the ground he was propositioning and not Tony. For what it was worth, Loki looked like he'd dragged himself through a pit of particularly aggressive needles, all small, nail length scratches and dark, dark bruises - from lack and sleep and someone clutching to his arms too hard, judging by the the shape. His clothes were disarmingly simple - an off-green tunic without sleeves, revealing pale skinned bones, and black breeches. Oddly, his feet were exposed and flexed lightly upon Tony's lab floor, reflecting the nervous movements of the God's hands. 

He took a breath, "Loki. Loki, I can't do that."

The God of Mischief practically snarls, head flung up and lips arched in something resembling disgust. It catches Tony off guard for a moment and he automatically takes a step back, feeling the cold embrace of a work surface bumping into his hips. Flashes of New York - a road below him, Loki's clouded eyes, the wrenching feeling in his chest when the suit didn't arrive straight away. 

"Are you a coward, Tony Stark? I thought you a hero to this desolate planet." Loki's voice is deep and has a fine, measured amount of mockery playing in the vowels - enough that Tony knows that Loki's had millenias to perfect it. The right amount. Tony had that exact tone down when he was sixteen.

"I'm no hero," he replies, honestly, resting his hand on the table behind him, finding comfort in the reassuring surface, "I'm a conveniently placed billionaire with enough money to keep SHIELD afloat and a rather amazing suit, if I do say so myself." Loki snarls again, suddenly straight in front of Tony, the dagger presented inches from his face. The blade glows a alien silver, it's handle looking pristine wrapped in black leathers - a well cared for weapon, and Tony would be damned if it didn't remind him of the way he constantly polished away at the suit, perfected it's sheen. 

"I'm not getting involved in your sick little suicide wish, Loki. Just - just fuck off back to Asgard or whereever the hell you're banished to, alright? Fuck off." Tony tries to ignore his shaky voice, tells himself it isn't about him knowing all too much on death wishes and desperation, that Loki's just an inconvenience right now. Tony's tired, he wants to work, needs a drink. Anything but the familiar haze to Loki's eyes.

"Stark, if you do not kill me, I will destroy this entire realm." Loki states him this calmy, matter-of-factly, dagger still held out in front of Tony, blade facing towards the God.

"You can't. Odin bound your powers." Tony tells him flatly, digging fingers against the corner in his hand, feeling the sting of the edge.

Loki let's out a frustrated sound, "You don't understand, Man of Iron! It is in my nature to play tricks, to disrupt, to destroy and strip all of it's value. If you allow me to walk out alive, I will find a way out of this imprisonment and bring the nine realms to it's knees," his gaze is drawn far away, "It is in my nature." He repeats, again, voice suddenly soft and drifting.

Tony knows the repetition of someone else's words when he hears it. He's been doing it all his life.

"Loki, you don't have to - to die. You don't." Loki's eyes flicker up, "You could... change." it sounds lame, even to Tony's own ears, confirmed when the God snorts, dagger jolting closer to his chest. He wants to be more convincing, more heartfelt, but forty years of forced charisma and shallow conversations catches on all too soon, short-wiring his eloquence with emotions, expression. Loki brings the knife to his chest and then, with a deep-seated sigh, pushes it down into its sheath at his belt.

"I expected more of you, Tony Stark." he divulges, taking a step back, voice almost chatty if it were not for the slight tremor, "I will visit the Hawk, then. I had... I had wished for a more dignified death, but it is clear to me now that I am not going to get that."

The smile he gives Tony is almost warm.

"I quite think I deserve this."

The God of Mischief disappears.


End file.
